Shujutsu
by dijeron
Summary: Post SSarc. On the night Rukia leaves Soul Society again, Kuchiki Byakuya drinks. Then walks....


The night after his sister was to have departed again for the world of the living, Byakuya shut himself within a garden pavilion with no servants and nothing to accompany him but an armrest and a barrel of venerable wine.

It had been a foggy night below, and above the not-yet full moon had already disappeared, the sky beginning to clear and lighten a little in anticipation of dawn, when the urge to stir became too great to resist. He'd managed to show his trust in his sister by not dogging her steps all the way to the gates, giving her only a smile and words assured of her safe return. Be that as it may, he found himself walking the path she must have taken to the living world through the strangely empty streets.

The gate was unguarded. That should have disturbed him: instead, through the fog in his head he saw his arm rise to knock.

And the gate swung open.

The mad exile stood on the other side, both hands resting on his zanpaktou. A cold wind passed through nowhere, from the living world to the dead. Byakuya felt it, and repressed the desire to shudder.

Byakuya asked questions of Urahara, but the man did not answer. "Ah, there you are," he said instead, brightly. "A few sheets past the wind, but no matter. I had been looking for you, anyway."

"What need have you of me?" Byakuya asked. He had grasped for hauteur, but his voice simply came out flat.

Urahara cocked his head unconcernedly. "Are you saying you won't come? Might as well. You've stepped through the gates already," he pointed out.

Indeed, although Byakuya had no memory moving since the gates opened, he looked down and found his feet on the other side. He looked back at the man, and wanted to put his perplexity back into words.

What do you want, Byakuya tried again, but the man ignored him. "Sa, sa!" He pulled him up. "To say there's no time to waste would be a lie, but time does pass, and we tarry here."

And Byakuya found himself led deeper into the living world. From the scent of the air, they had entered it underground. It was a wide, dark room Byakuya found himself in, and the only light entered from windows in two hanging doors in the wall.

Something dripped. Something whirred electronically. And something gurgled with an irregular and hollow sound.

"I'd have asked you to assist, you're certainly steady enough to manage such low-level exploration and suction, but I thought it might be best to handle it myself." Behind him, Urahara presented his back, as he bent over a body on a high metal table.

Byakuya stepped closer, and saw that the body was Kurosaki Ichigo.

"Come closer. He can't bite. Not under this much anesthesia, anyway."

The boy's chest was bared and split open, hips to sternum. His face was slack in sleep, and his breathing was steady while Urahara rummaged inside him.

"He begged me to remove his Hollow self," Urahara answered to a question Byakuya hadn't gotten around to formulating. He leaned on the table with an elbow and gestured with a large looking scalpel. "The fool. He should know by now that personal feelings have nothing to do with strategy. There is no way I'll remove our advantage just because of some guilt he's managed to drag himself into by association."

"You can do such a thing?"

Urahara laughed. "Of course! It's a simple thing to add or remove things from a soul, once you have the procedure. The dust of karma. Bonds from former lives. Corruption or orbs, it's all the same. Simple.

"So no, I would not weaken him, no matter what he might want. But I thought: why not take the opportunity to take out some unnecessary things. Efficiency is key for human machinery, as you know. Aha! Memories of maternal love. Tsk. Certainly we don't need so much of that in the works, here. Some to keep the guilt steady, of course. But, you know."

Ichigo's face was so slack. "But will he not be upset when he finds out that you misled him?"

"Ah," Urahara waved a red and admonishing finger in front of him. "That would be to say he was foolish enough to trust me in the first place. Pity he doesn't have your experience in that matter, eh now, Captain?"

Byakuya stared at the gaping body in front of him when Urahara moved aside. Urahara was now prying something out of the chest cavity. Already something that looked like a shrunken and desiccated arm had flopped out, as if it was beckoning him. His throat went dry and he stepped away from the gurney. Urahara moved back into place.

No, he had not recognized it. He had not.

Byakuya had to concentrate on his jaw muscles to speak. "Why have you brought me here?"

"Oh?" Urahara tilted his head and considered Byakuya. "Because this concerns you, of course." He wrenched something out of Ichigo with a grunt. "Now hold out your hands."

Byakuya fell back another step. But one hand came up. What Urahara was holding had its hand held out to him, although limp.

"Both hands now," Byakuya was scolded, until he extended his left hand.

Something curled in on itself, dripping, and somehow light was placed in them. He would not look. It did not move. Vestigial, it had to be vestigial, for it was not alive.

"Why," Urahara showed his teeth at him. "A man as devoted as you, captain, and not to recognize his wife?"

Byakuya swallowed past the uneasiness and tried to look again at the shrunken thing he held. His head would not move, his chin lifting, but he managed to lower his gaze. It skidded over the main part resting between his two palms, but focused steadily on the outstretched arm. Its hand was resting palm up, fingers curled as if to receive something.

"It has been a while, I suppose. Things happen to souls over time and lives, and you might no longer recognize them. But the bond of two lifetimes, captain. I did somewhat think more of your constancy."

It didn't move at all. His hands were steady.

"... What do you expect me to do with... this?"

Urahara shook his head, stripping the gloves from his arms. They snapped off with a wet-sounding slap, and then he heard the same as they hit the floor. "Tut tut, now. Post-surgery counseling is my partner's purview, not mine. And it would cost you extra."

Byakuya heard the man walk away, and finally turned to face him. The inventor's smile was knife-sharp as he paused before the swinging doors. "But if you would like some free advice, throw it away. It's of no use to anyone anymore. Certainly not anyone in this room."

Why was his throat so dry? "That advice is not truly free, is it," he managed, and did not choke it out.

Urahara's eyes closed in delight. "Ah, now you're learning, my little captain." He pushed the doors open, but paused. "I would recommend you leave before young Kurosaki wakes, however. I would not appreciate the property damage."

And then he was gone, and the light in the room fluttered. Byakuya turned slowly back to what he held in his hands, moved slowly back to where Ichigo was laid open on the table, and as slowly as if he were underwater, placed it back within the abdominal cavity. Then, picking up the needle and fine thread left on the gurney, prepared to stitch the boy closed. His hands were steady. He could no longer breathe, he noticed, as his hair brushed down on the exposed skin.

Byakuya's fingertips were drawing sticky blood as he started up from Kurosaki's navel.


End file.
